


I Come With Knives

by giraffles



Series: Torus [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deception, Gen, I adore him, Introspection, gen but apart of my guilty pleasure ot3 universe, gotta post the shit before it drops wheeze, kanye shrug, lotor being the snake he is, not s5 compliant LET ME LIVE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 22:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffles/pseuds/giraffles
Summary: They don't trust him.An intelligent, if unsurprising, move from them.





	I Come With Knives

**Author's Note:**

> drops this and runs

They don't trust him. 

An intelligent, if unsurprising, move from them. Though it stands to reason that the paladins couldn't have survived thus far if they were wholly incompetent. And they would make poor pawns indeed if the lot of them just accepted an exiled galra prince with open arms. It would have marked them as weak, targets that would have crumbled too fast and too soon to be of any use to him. But this? This was perfect. 

He's taking a calculated risk of his own, betting that their policies of compassion and mercy and other trivial things will keep him alive long enough to have his vengeance. He doesn't really care what happens to them in the end so long as they can help him get _to_  the end. But for now, he has to play nice. He has to convince them that he's not just worth keeping around, that he's an asset to be invested in. That he'll be worthy of a place in their little coalition. He has to _make_  them trust him. 

Which, of course, they don't. Especially the altean princess who regards him with eyes of ice that hide a murderous rage he's all too familiar with. How would she feel if he pointed that out? That in the end she's no better than the rest of them trying to claw out an existence in the brutal universe. She's no different than the people she despises. And, not so very different from *him*, at least on a genetic level. Maybe that's why she gives him such a baleful gaze. She's not the first to shun his half breed status and she won't be the last. 

      "If you try anything," she leaves the threat hanging, but he's been through this dance often enough to catch her meaning. Lotor is unfazed and unimpressed. 

      "Princess," he drawls, "Surely we can put aside our animosity for a while?" 

Yet she's not the only one who's radiating anger and stinking of barely contained fear. His galra side let's him sense it acutely, and he takes stock of which ones are the most affected by his presence. (Even in chains, they don't let their guard down. That's smart. For whatever small good that'll do for them.) The big one in yellow is half hidden behind some of the others, the one in blue and the one in the cloaked outfit of the insurgents. Funny, that particular rebel doesn't _look_  galra, but he knows better than anyone that appearances can't be trusted. Like the little green child with their weapon at the ready. That one has danger written all over them, regardless of the other human that keeps trying to shield them. They look as though they may be related. How cute. 

The champion is the only one he recognizes. He's sure they have a proper name, but he never bothered to learn it, and names weren't as important in the arena as winning matches. Things would have turned out differently if Lotor had ever faced that one in battle. He supposes they're all a little lucky they hadn't. It would have been a shame to have cut that one down, to have done anything to benefit his father's reign, even indirectly. 

      "What exactly do you want?" 

He wants many things. Some that are arguably unobtainable in this age, some that were never more than a fantasy created by a younger and more naive version of himself. Others are very real, and they are agonizingly close at hand, just waiting to be seized. But he has to be patient, or he risks undoing everything he's worked so hard for. (Not that he has much left after his most recent betrayal, which still aches like an old wound, one that he's been very determined to ignore.) He's waited this long. He supposes he can wait a little more. 

      "Is it not obvious?" He feigns innocence, though he has no illusions of any of them taking it at face value, "We now have the same enemy." 

Of course they know that. _Lotor_  had destroyed the flag ship, ripped down its shields and more or less saved the pitiful defenders of the universe. They're a formidable foe, he realizes that now, but so woefully outmanned and outmaneuvered by the galra empire-- and he's not sure they truly understand the scope of their liberation campaign. Sooner or later, they'll be in over their heads. Again. And maybe that time, they won't be so lucky to have him to cripple their attackers. _That_ , at least, he thinks might be finally dawning on them. He's offering them an obvious advantage in their ongoing fight. They would have to be stubborn and arrogant fools not to take it.

They resist the idea. It's to be expected. He did try to kill them once or twice. Heated words break out amongst them, and he takes care to not look too amused at their infighting and bickering. It's a petty squabble that needs to run its course before they realize they don't have much of a choice. They only have a chance of winning if they put aside their petty squabbles and face the cold, hard truth of the world. 

In the end, the paladins come around. More or less. There are rules, of course, tight guidelines to follow, lest he find himself a foe instead of guest. But he can work with them. He can work _around_  them. It's the game he's been born to play-- the game he needs to win if he ever wants to be out from under Zarkon's shadow. The other players just don't realize that they're also the pieces, to be moved around the board, sacrificed or saved, whichever is most advantageous. Or maybe some of them do. He meets the eyes of the so-called champion, who stares back unflinchingly. 

Lotor gives them all his best smile, wide with teeth bared, meant to off put them even though it'll look like he's attempting to be friendly. Lest they forget he has fangs and that he knows how to use them. After all, it would also be boring if they just allowed themselves to manipulated. He'll give them a hint of the true viciousness of ambition lurking in his heart.

He looks forward to the challenge.

 


End file.
